


The Zamboni Incident

by shadhahvar



Series: Yuri!!! On Crackfic [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crack, Everyone Still Skates Somehow, Katsuki Yuuri as Spider-Man (more or less), Kisses, M/M, Mature Because Victor's Thirsty, Sentient Time Traveling Zamboni Matchmaker, Spider-Shibari (nonsexual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: When Yuuri Katsuki shows up at the rink in costume wearing a trilby and holding up opera glasses while driving the rink's zamboni, Victor Nikiforov has a few questions.





	The Zamboni Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [topcatnikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/topcatnikki/gifts).



> Nikki and to whomever else left that zamboni prompt, this is for you!

He heard the rumbling of an engine before the zamboni pulled up to the boards, part of the regular rink maintenance that helped outline Victor’s days. He turned toward the single door exit at the side of the rink, lifting a hand to indicate that he heard and knew the driver was there. He wouldn’t make their job more difficult, and he could stretch out, hydrate, eat a protein bar made of crickets for the sheer novelty, and—Victor glanced over to the zamboni, pulling to a hard stop on the ice as he registered what he saw.

It couldn’t have been much of an attempt at subtly when Spider-Man was in full costume, the brilliant crimson and striking blue of his skin-tight suit a bright contrast against the subdued colours of the rink. Even his hat, a trilby, was done in the same colours: blue felt with a red ribbon wrapped around. He could make out the flattened bow from here, much like he could make out the gold and red pair of binoculars held up to Spider-Man’s face, most certainly pointed straight at Victor. He felt a bit like he was being observed by a documentarian out in the wild. 

> _Here we find Victor Nikiforov in his natural habitat, sweating and exhausted after another practice session on the ice. He’s likely to seek out nourishment after ritualistic cleaning, then retire for the evening, preferably in the arms of his mate._

He squinted, still staring at what Spider-Man held in his hand. It wasn’t binoculars. Those were…

“Where in the world did you find _opera_ glasses?”

Driving the zamboni onto the ice, Spider-Man let the glasses drop away from his face. Victor didn’t appreciate how there was no facial language to read on this man in costume, only the way he held himself and his tone of voice, but he understood the need. Most the time. Right now was not actually one of those times.

“Would you believe me if I said a little Phantom dropped them off?”

He sounded amused, his small shrugging gesture almost apologetic. Victor skated closer with lazy twizzles, head tipped to the side. Phantom, phantom… “He didn’t call you his angel of music, did he?”

Spider-Man laughed, hunching his shoulders and nudging the brim of his hat back. “What’s it going to take to get you to forget about that karaoke night?”

Keeping up with the zamboni as Spider-Man drove it down the center of the rink, Victor hummed, tapping a finger against his lips. “Oh, I have a few ideas.” He smiled, a short-lasting twist of his lips into an expression of amusement. He was mock serious a moment after. “Up!”

Spider-Man moved his head to exaggerate the look between Victor’s suddenly outthrust hand and Victor’s face with the expectant lift of his eyebrows. “Really?” Spider-Man brought the zamboni to a stop, leaning over and taking hold of Victor’s hand to help haul him up on the side of the ice resurfacer. “It’s going to be a tight fit.”

Victor grinned, carefully placing his skates so he could turn and flop in Spider-Man’s lap, leaning in close to the approximate location of his ear to murmur, “Just how you like it.”

He probably shouldn’t have laughed at how that made him jump and splutter, but he did.

“Victor!”

“Spideuuri!”

His horrific portmanteau earned another choked off sound, this time a _groan_. “Victor, _please_.”

“What?” he said, the picture of unrepentant innocence. “You _are_ pretty spidery.” 

“Are you implying you’ve been caught in my web of increasingly pathetic attempts at flirtation?”

Victor smiled, carefully pulling off Spider-Man’s hat, sitting it in his lap. His fingers teased the line where Spider-Man’s mask met his body suit, flirting with the edges before he hooked his thumbs under, eeking it upward. “I’m entirely cocooned,” he said, working the mask off with practiced ease, “In your silken embrace.”

Yuuri’s face was revealed, nose scrunched, eyes squeezed shut, his hair a half flat, half sticking up at odd angles mess. Victor couldn’t imagine anything more endearing, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of Yuuri’s adorable nose, earning him a snort.

“That was horrible,” Yuuri said, peering through his lashes. Victor smiled, unabashedly pleased.

“Glad to leave a lasting impression.”

Yuuri might have grumbled more, but he found Victor leaning in to press a misleadingly chaste kiss to his lips, fingers raking through Yuuri’s hair to fluff it into further confusion. Chasing after Victor’s lips, Yuuri kissed him back _harder_ in retaliation, hot and demanding. Victor squirmed in his lap and kissed him back with equal heat, excitement fizzing through his veins in spite of the exhaustion, hands stroking down Yuuri’s neck to latch onto his shoulders for support.

Yuuri only opened his eyes when Victor leaned back as they moved along at the incredible speed of almost five distracted kilometers per hour. Victor admired the beautiful flush on Yuuri’s face, licking his lips unconsciously before leaning in for more. Then those heartfilling eyes of an indescribable brown (Victor tried, failed, and had often fallen to using food metaphors in his desperation, saying perhaps too much about his own love of delectables _like_ one Yuuri Katsuki) went wide with sudden shock, Victor sitting up, his heart racing as Yuuri let out a strangled cry.

“Boards!”

Yuuri jerked on the wheel, sending the zamboni veering in a sharp arc to the right, Victor losing balance and sliding out of Yuuri’s lap, on collision course with the ice. He prepared for impact, reminding himself not to catch with his hands, when just as suddenly he felt himself jerked upward. The almost vertigo he was slammed with left him blinking hard and breathing harder, coming to his senses to realise he was now dangling just over two meters above the ice.

He recognised the look of the white threads splattered across his torso, forming an intricate weave in an oddly familiar pattern. He kicked his feet, finding his legs left clear and unencumbered, his weight supported by torso and hips caught up in a harness he wouldn’t have thought Yuuri capable of making on the fly.

Then again, Yuuri _was_ very good at catching when he wanted to be.

The man in question stood on the ice, face flushed, one hand out and connected by spider-silk to the wheel of the zamboni retreating at a diagonal across the rink. His other hand was held up, fingers splayed, palm out to Victor as if he was both asking him to stay and pleading for him not to go.

 _It’s the same thing_ , Victor told himself. It still felt like two different things as he slowly spun in a circle away from Yuuri, lightly dazed.

“Yuuri.” 

Victor’s particular sing-song quality of voice he assumed when he wanted Yuuri’s attention for something in _particular_ drew Yuuri’s eyes to his face. Yuuri froze, preemptively sheepish, staring at his lover and coach and sometimes photographer, depending on the rather complicated relationship needs they were facing on a given day. 

“Yes?”

Victor waited until he could see him again, craning his head in the meantime to see where his harness of spider-silk attached to a steel beam on the ceiling. 

“Not that I mind exploring spider- _shibari_ ,” he said, voice dry, “but could we try to keep it in the apartment, if not the bedroom?”

Yuuri waved his hands in a flustered burst of emotion, unintentionally jerking on the wheel of the zamboni. “Oh no, Victor, I’m sorry, let me get you down from there—”

Victor held up a hand best as he could from where it was pinned at his side, forestalling whatever else Yuuri was about to say. He wasn’t even looking at Yuuri; he looked past him, toward the rumbling purr of the zamboni as it rolled ever onward. 

“It’s going to eat your hat.”

Yuuri stared up at him, expression blank. “What?”

Victor flicked his eyes back to Yuuri, lifting both eyebrows and nodding his head beyond Yuuri’s shoulder.

“The ice resurfacer. It’s going to eat your hat.”

“What?!” Yuuri spun around, pulling back with his hand attached to the steering wheel, but it was too late. He watched his trilby disappear under the low clearance of the zamboni, never to be seen unsmashed and uniced again. “Phichit’s going to kill me!”

“Oh?” Victor tried to keep impatience out of his voice as he continued to spin, Yuuri once again out of his field of vision.

“I was supposed to send him a selfie wearing that thing…”

Ah. Of course. It would be Phichit, wouldn’t it?

“I’m sure you can take a picture of what happened and tell him it was lost in a tragic zamboni accident. Now…” He kicked his feet. “I realise I’m wearing blades on my feet, but even if I could make that work, I’d rather not learn what a fall from this height feels like when I hit the ice. Please?”

“Be right there!” 

Victor slowly spun back around to catch sight of Yuuri springing toward the zamboni. He could admire the way Yuuri’s costume clung to the curves of his backside; had more than once, in fact, but given he was left hanging right now it was a matter of keeping himself occupied in the meantime. After his lover had wrestled the dastardly zamboni into submission, Victor watched him turn and shoot another strand of spider-silk toward the rafters. He moved with such inspiring grace as he flung himself through the air, lips set in a determined line, that Victor felt his heart skip a beat in dry-mouthed admiration.

Yuuri lowered himself head-first once he was over where Victor hung, one hand aimed toward the ceiling, both feet pressed to his current thread of spider-silk. His sheepish smile as he reached out to stop Victor’s slow turning progress prompted Victor’s soft smile in return.

“Hey there.”

“Hey. Sorry about that. Spider-senses aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

“What, you don’t have any ‘I’m about to drive the zamboni into the boards while making out with my lover’ senses to tingle?”

“You know, for some strange reason, all the tingling was of a non-spider-sense kind.” His smile faded, expression relaxing into an almost nervous fondness. “No matter how hard I try, something about being around you makes it hard to look away.”

Victor returned his soft look with an equally soft smile. “When there aren’t city-wide disasters going on.”

Yuuri tipped his head to the side, smile going crooked, almost uncertain. “I… well, yeah.” His hand moved to cradle Victor’s cheek, face mere centimeters away. “Keeping the city safe help keeps you safe, too.”

His heart clenched at the look in Yuuri’s eyes, an apology he didn’t need to give. “I know,” he said, because he did know what Yuuri thought of it all, even while he felt it was a ridiculous time to have this conversation again. “Just remember I still need you to come back to me alive at the end of the day, Yuuri. Or else when are we going to have a chance to explore this spider- _shibari_ thing you have going on?”

Victor quirked an eyebrow pointedly while Yuuri’s cheeks blushed a heady pink all over again. Yuuri reached up and out to snag the spider-silk keeping Victor airborne, bouncing and pulling Victor closer. His stomach dropped when he fell half a meter before being caught in Yuuri’s arms, the weave of spider-silk loosening around his torso as Yuuri guided them down to the ice.

Yuuri set Victor on his feet, a full head shorter than him standing on the ice in only his costumed feet. Victor finished brushing the last of the dissolving spider-silk off his shoulders, straightening out his exercise shirt. “Thank you.” He glanced at Yuuri’s face, reaching out to brush his thumb over the curve of Yuuri’s cheek. He could see his thoughts spinning themselves into knots even now, a tangle of emotions and words and irrationalities he was only better understanding these days. “Yuuri… what thoughts are caught up in that web of your mind right now?”

Yuuri offered him a cracked smile, bringing his gloved hand up to press over Victor’s. Leaning into Victor’s touch, he breathed in, tremulous, then out. “You’re going hard on the puns tonight, aren’t you?”

“A little.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s. “Doesn’t answer my question though.”

“Mm.” Yuuri’s gaze dropped, indecision making his features difficult to read. Victor waited, studying the fall of Yuuri’s lashes as he waited. When Yuuri lifted his chin, he caught Victor’s eyes with his own, determination firming the line of his jaw. “Do you have plans for this Friday?”

Victor met Yuuri’s serious look with the same degree of intensity. “Nothing more than walking Makkachin at the park. What are we doing?”

Yuuri smiled, expression softening as his shoulders relaxed. “As long as the city’s not burning itself down in some way the authorities can’t handle, I was hoping I could take you out to dinner?”

Victor felt himself warm, not yet returning Yuuri’s small smile. “In or out of costume?”

Yuuri blinked, then laughed, the sound music in Victor’s ears. “I’d like to eat, you know!”

Victor smiled at last, eyes twinkling with good humour. “Then just Yuuri, decorated sports photographer and top figure skater from Japan, and just Victor, reigning world champion of the figure skating world, out for a night on the town?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri’s brown eyes darkened, his hands finding their way to Victor’s waist, curling around his sides to pull him forward on the ice. “Just you and me.” Yuuri shifted angles, brushing his lips against Victor’s in a sweet promise of a kiss. Victor wanted to drown in that sensation, both too little and too much for the weight of emotion overwhelming his heart, bursting forth from the marrow of his bones like some kind of trap-door spider of love.

The ridiculous analogy made him smile against Yuuri’s lips, Yuuri’s soft noise of frustration leading to a happy hum as Victor suckled on his lower lip. A thrill sparked along his nerves, Victor shivering in the delight of this improbable man who’d come barreling into his life at the Grand Prix Final banquet last year, only to sweep Victor up in an adventure and danger greater than anything else he’d expected out of life.

The hum of the zamboni engine starting caught them both off-guard, Yuuri and Victor jerking back and knocking heads when turning to stare at the moving zamboni. The _driverless_ zamboni, currently heading for the opening in the boards it’d been driven through.

“I didn’t know this rink had a self-driving zamboni,” Victor said, enunciating each word slowly as he unwrapped his arms from around Yuuri, reaching for his hand. Yuuri’s reassuring squeeze while rubbing at his forehead, squinting after the zamboni, was followed by his equally slow agreement.

“As far as I know, _no_ rink has a self-driving zamboni.”

The zamboni engine sputtered in a strange, recognisable pattern. It took a moment for Victor to identify the sound of… laughter?

“Yuuri, is a zamboni driving away from us while laughing?”

“I… there’s no computer in that thing, Victor. It can’t be hacked.”

“Okay, so is the computerless, hacker-free zamboni driving away from us while laughing?” He noted idly that the trilby had not resurface in the wake of the zamboni’s earlier run of localised destruction.

“Yes?”

“Huh.” 

They stood side by side watching the zamboni retreat down the maintenance tunnel toward where it was stored.

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you happen to know about poltergeists?”

Yuuri turned to give Victor a deadpan look. “This is not the work of a poltergeist, Victor.”

“Are you sure?” Victor pressed his lips together, glancing from Yuuri to the tunnel the zamboni had disappeared down. “I mean, there was that time when you were possessed by that squid spirit at the festival—”

“That was one time!”

“I’m just saying maybe we should be investigating the history of this rink before entirely ruling it out—”

“One time, Victor!”

“One time and eight spidery tentacles later—”

“You said nothing weird happened—”

“Nothing did, past the whole possession and shadow tentacles thing.”

“How isn’t that considered weird?!”

Victor quirked an eyebrow, casting a sidelong glance Yuuri’s way. “I’m dating a man bitten by a radioactive spider who gained superpowers. Someone who can literally cling to the wall when we’re making lo—”

“That’s great, we’re going home now!” Yuuri cut him off, cheeks scarlet, hauling Victor along behind him as he marched for the exit to the rink.

Victor smiled, expression soft. Yuuri was a compelling bundle of at times conflicting purposes, but there was no one else in the entirety of the world he’d rather be running away from an ice rink’s possessed zamboni with. “Okay, but what about your mask?”

Yuuri paused as he stepped through the door at the rinkside. “... Please don’t tell me I left it on the poltergeist zamboni.”

“Hah! So you agree it’s a poltergeist!” Helpfully, he didn’t tell Yuuri what they both now knew: _he’d left his mask on the poltergeist zamboni_.

“I didn’t, that’s not—okay, please get ready, I’m going to go get my mask back and then we’re going _home_.”

Victor tugged on Yuuri’s hand, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Be careful.”

Yuuri’s frown lessened a degree before he sighed, squeezing Victor’s hand and letting go. “I will. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I know you will.” Yuuri smiled, briefly, before his shoulders set and he was jumping into action doing what he did best: achieving the improbable in the face of the absurd.

Damn if his assets didn’t look _fantastic_ while he did it. Victor turned away with a wistful sigh, snatching up his water bottle that did less than nothing to assuage the thirst he felt, or to dissipate the worry. Still, he trusted Yuuri would come back to him. He believed, because even if Yuuri wasn’t sure, even if Yuuri’s confidence lagged, Victor wouldn’t allow his belief in Yuuri to falter.

Not even in the face of poltergeist zambonis.

* * *

The zamboni chuckled to itself, dumping its load of ice and water and the ruined trilby into the cement basin for such things. Another successful match made, for all it’d taken months to get the two men to understand what they were both feeling. It was finally time for it to return to its own proper time, awaiting that niggling inspiration that struck telling it when and where in history it would move next, which life entangled with the world of the ice it’d be helping guide toward their fated partner, or partners.

As it managed to shake itself, the forgotten mask sliding off to the ground, it moved forward carefully to get proper clearance. It should be activating its sequence to return to its native time in a matter of moments, and— 

The zamboni paused, weak headlights catching a flash of metal and light in the service hall beyond. It recognised a shape almost as familiar as its own, decorated in blues and whites and the geometric shapes that formed the mascot for this facility. Its engines rumbled, purring a soft question met by an equally curious rumbling. Spark plugs stuttered, an unfamiliar emotion surging through its mechanical core, surging along its electrical wiring.

The two zambonis drove forward, stopping a mere handswidth apart. Their engines rumbled in unison, headlights flashing in a language only those like them knew. It was then that the zamboni that traveled time, connecting soulmates and occasionally solving mysteries and crimes as it went, solved the most persistent mystery of all: love.

With an orchestral rise and fall of engine music and lights, the two zamboni vanished, traveling to that far-flung future which Yuuri would never know. By the time he arrived, ready for a fight, the service hall was all but empty. Wet tire tracks had traced a heart on the cement, slowly drying into oblivion. In the middle of it lay Yuuri’s mask and a note.

_Thank you for helping me find my life and love too._

**Author's Note:**

> In Zamboni Do We Trust. ;)
> 
> Bless each and every one of you who made it through this nonsense, feel free to leave me delicious cakes in the comments, or equally ridiculous prompts if you want to see me continue to fail crack?!? I... so anyway, about that next chapter of _Finding Eros_ —


End file.
